Notes
by JDPhoenix
Summary: JONAS My submission for suburbs' challenge, starting ironically enough with the very beginning of JONAS.
1. Challenge 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Jonas -- the band or the TV show.

AN: This is my take on suburbs' challenge (check out her profile for the details). I don't know if I'll do all ten weeks, but I do know I'll have fun and I hope you all do too.

**Notes**

**Challenge 1: Quotation  
**

"_True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked." - Erich Segal_

The day seemed never to end, one thing after another coming at her, making her wish she could just go to sleep and wake up when it was all over. Sandy'd been up since before dawn, Tom driving her like a maniac down the highway. She was sure they'd be pulled over but had been surprised when the flashing lights she saw through her sleepy haze were from a parked ambulance.

That had started hours of poking and prodding and, "You're not quite there yet," only to be ended by a hasty trip down the hall into a more sterile room. After that there was screaming and cursing and she swore she'd never look at Tom the same way again. There was a moment when the pain was so intense that bright lights above her seemed to blur and sounds crashed over her like waves, taking her to some unreal place until it was over and her own screams were replaced with the robust cry that could only come from lungs the size of her finger.

That was when she felt tears well up in her eyes. Her job wasn't over yet but how could she think about anything except that sound, that flash of a waving arm she'd seen between the nurses? Tom said it was only moments later -- she would forever claim it had to be hours -- that they brought him back and placed the now clean newborn in her arms.

Her heart hammered in her chest from the massive workout she'd just endured and from the prospect of caring for this tiny piece of perfection in her arms. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes, as shell-shocked by this new reality as she was.

"Kevin," Tom sighed, brushing the dark curls on the newborn's head and kissing her sweaty cheek.

How could it be possible, she wondered as she felt him kick against the swaddling, to love someone so much that just seeing him for the first time made your heart feel like it was breaking and growing all at the same time?


	2. Challenge 2

**Notes**

_What if Joe had been the one with the date instead of Stella in "Fashion Victim" and he asked her for help picking an outfit for his date?_

"Perfect!" Stella said, stepping back from the clothing rack. "**I **have successfully created three fabulous outfits for the three of you to wear when you meet the Prime Minister tomorrow." She spun around happily, ready to receiver her congratulations.

"Great job, Stel," Joe said, standing before the others could say anything. "But now can we deal with more important things?"

"What could be more important than this?" Stella asked as Joe pulled her towards the Stellavator.

"My date."

"Your _what_?" Stella demanded, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. He had a date? How could he have a date? He'd only been back in town for a week! And, more importantly, what was he doing throwing it in her face like that?

"I have a date in like an hour," Joe continued, completely missing the quickly changing emotions on Stella's face. "I need your help picking something to wear."

"Why?" Stella asked coldly. She was vaguely aware that Nick and Kevin had disappeared, presumably to escape the blast radius. "You're perfectly capable of dressing yourself for a simple date."

"But," Joe said, giving her a puppy dog look that might have worked under different circumstances, "you're so much better at it."

Of course she was better at it! She already knew exactly what he should wear, that wasn't the point! The point was … well, she wasn't mature enough to consciously admit what the point was, so she tried a different tactic.

"You're flying to England tonight. In the morning you're meeting with the Prime Minister. Do you really want to waste your energy on some girl whose name you probably don't even remember?"

"I remember her name!" he snapped. "It's Josie."

"Josie!" Stella cried, her voice approaching a register only dogs could hear. "Josie Cornwall?"

"Yeah," Joe said, clearly proud he'd gotten a date with her. "Now will you help me choose something to wear?"

Stella gaped at his back while he worked at the Stellavator. Even if she'd wanted to she couldn't have helped him: she was floundering between emotions, too shell-shocked to move. One emotion, stronger, deeper than the others, began rising and she quickly pushed it back down. She hadn't given in to it once since she was fourteen and saw a photo of Joe dating some starlet in the pages of Tween Weekly. Grabbing her anger like a life raft she turned on her heel and stormed downstairs.

Nick and Kevin were sitting far too still at the kitchen table.

"Hi, Stella," Kevin said cautiously.

"Bite me," she snapped and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

An hour later Stella was walking sadly down the street. In her anger she'd forgotten her plan to stay over at the Lucases' house. That was both to protect the clothes for tomorrow and so that there would be one less stop to make on the way to the airport. Plus, it didn't make much sense for her to go home, get ready for bed, and go to sleep, only to wake up a couple hours later and prepare for the flight.

Now though, that plan had left her out in the cold. She couldn't go home or her mom would ask what was wrong and she couldn't go to Macy's because when Macy got started mosaicing it was impossible to tear her away and she couldn't go back to the firehouse because then … then she'd be back in the firehouse.

She sighed and headed towards her favorite coffee shop. It was in a quieter part of town so she doubted she'd see Joe and Josie on their date. After ordering a drink with one too many shots of chocolate and caramel she found a table outside and settled down to people watch. It wasn't long after that before her phone rang. She quickly dug it out of her purse before she was forced to listen to any more of Joe's singing than absolutely necessary.

"Stella here," she said, not quite able to keep the sigh out of her voice, "what's up?"

"What did you do?" Macy asked, clearly miffed.

Stella blinked, racking her brain trying to remember what she could have done to anger Macy while simultaneously reminding herself that the world did not revolve around her and it wasn't Macy's fault she didn't know that Stella had dibs on righteous anger tonight.

Finally she just threw up a hand and said, "I- I'm sorry, Mace, I really have no idea what I've done to make you angry but I promise you I'm sorry for whatever it is."

Macy sighed, clearly annoyed. "Kevin just updated his facebook status."

"Wait, you're friends with Kevin on facebook?"

"Yeah," Macy said happily, "_he_ friended _me_! Can you believe it? I was so shocked when it happened! I missed dinner that night because I was passed out in front of the computer and my mom thought I was just working really hard on a paper."

Stella chuckled and Macy quickly snapped back into focus.

"But that's not the point!" she cried. "It says right here on my screen, 'Kevin Lucas really wishes SM would come back so he could apologize.'"

Stella moaned and let her head fall forward against the table. Kevin was the king of guilt trips, not because he tried to make anyone feel guilty -- he was way too sweet for that -- but because when he felt bad you couldn't help but do everything in your power to make him feel better.

"Now tell me what you did, young lady," Macy demanded.

Stella leaned her elbow on the tabletop and ran her hand through her hair. "Right now, at this very moment, Joe Lucas is on a date with Josie Cornwall."

"Oh, Stella," Macy said sadly and Stella had to bite back an angry retort. She didn't want pity, she wanted to hate Josie, she wanted Macy to say that she'd once seen Josie making out with Van Dyke and not five minutes later saw her making out with that kid who was always late to class and smelled funny. But Macy wouldn't say that because Josie was perfect. She was the nicest girl in school. If you were absent she was the first one to volunteer to bring you your homework and even if someone else did it, she would still show up at your house with a thermos of chicken noodle and a plate of homemade cookies.

"Their couple name is gonna be JoJo, isn't it?" Stella asked with a wince.

"Probably," Macy said. "Do you need me to come over?"

"No," Stella said, "I have to go back to the firehouse soon and get some sleep before we head to the airport."

"Maybe it didn't go well," Macy said hopefully. "Maybe they didn't get along."

"How could they not get along? Josie gets along with everyone."

"Yeah, but Joe's kind of a jerk."

Stella laughed despite herself. "Yeah, he is. Thanks, Mace. I'll call you when we land so you can post about it."

"Thanks! And don't let Joe get you down."

Stella pocketed her phone and downed the rest of her coffee in one quick gulp. Her chair scraped on the cement when she stood and winced, shooting an apologetic glance at the surrounding tables and then feeling silly because it was a cold night and she was the only one crazy enough to sit outside.

"Hi."

Stella let out a small cry and dropped her empty cup as she whirled. "Joe!"

He stood five feet away, hands in his pockets and looking like a puppy who'd just been yelled at for jumping on the couch.

"What's up?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders as if that would erase everything between finalizing the band's outfits and now.

Stella thought for a moment about taking out her frustrations on him, but decided against it. "Nothing. What are you doing here?"

"I was going to bring a coffee home for you."

Stella felt a blush on her cheeks and couldn't help but grin. "I already had one, and I probably shouldn't have had that anyway."

"Oh," he said dully, avoiding her eyes.

"Walk me home?" she asked.

The smile on his face was almost worth everything. "Of course." He offered her his arm and she laughed when she took it.

They were halfway home when she finally said, "Date not go so well?"

"Apparently," Joe sighed, "Josie only went out with me because she felt bad for me."

"But you're an internationally known superstar! Why would she feel sorry for you?"

"She's Angelina's best friend."

"Orchestra Angelina?"

"Yup."

"Ouch." They took several more steps before she asked, "So why did it end so fast?"

Now Joe smiled slightly. "She asked about Kevin's facebook status."

"Is _everyone_ at school Kevin's facebook friend?"

"Probably. You know you have to apologize to him, right?"

"But he's gonna look at me with those puppy dog eyes and he'll say something about ducks that I won't understand at all and I'll feel horrible for ever making him sad." She pulled Joe to a stop. "Do we have to go back?"

"Well," Joe said slowly, "Nick will torture me forever if I come home from a date this early…."

"So let's go do something," Stella said, pulling him towards the center of town. "You don't want to spend the whole flight being tortured."

"Yeah," Joe said, straightening and marching happily with her at his side. "And this way, you get to enjoy dating Joe Lucas."

"Oh please," Stella said, slapping his arm lightly. "As if that's such a privilege. And anyway, if we were going on a date, trust me, you would know it."

"Like you're so great," Joe said. "And you know what, you should be …"

The two walked on, while back at the firehouse Nick, Kevin, and Macy huddled together at the kitchen table, listening to the non-date on Macy's phone.

"How long do you think it'll take Stella to realize her phone's still on?" Kevin whispered.

"Until she gets another call," Macy whispered brightly.

"Thanks for coming over," Nick said, "this is just too awesome not to hear."

"And mock later?" Kevin asked.

"Of course."

Nick jumped up suddenly and headed upstairs.

"Where are you going?" Kevin asked.

"To write a song dedicated to Joe striking out."

"He's gonna kill you," Kevin said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, but I'll have embarrassed him first, so it's okay."

Macy smiled, happy just to be in the Lucas house and to know that Joe and Stella might actually be getting somewhere.

* * *

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	3. Challenge 3

AN: I spent forever trying to figure out what to write for this challenge. I even have an almost completed response to "window" (I abandoned it when I realized it wasn't focused enough in its intent). Then, today, as I looked over the list in suburbs' profile yet again, I saw "banana." Somehow, I had overlooked the prompt every other time I'd looked at the list, but once I saw it everything clicked into place (finally). I hope you all enjoy.

_Banana_

Falling was something Macy Misa was well associated with. She fell at least once a week, mostly because she'd been knocked down on the football field or during some other competitive sport. She always got right back up and continued the game though, more eager than ever to pound the opposing team into the dust. But today, she just lay on the tiled floor, her eyes closed tight, and her face turning a brilliant shade of red as she remembered how she got in this mess in the first place.

She had come home from her morning jog ready to face the day but before she could jump in the shower she heard her cell phone ringing. As she answered she noticed half a dozen missed calls and wondered what could be so urgent so early.

"Hello?"

"Macy!" Stella said, though it sounded more like "Maythee." "Thank goodness!" There was a pause and then a sneeze that made Macy's sinuses hurt just from hearing it.

"Stella! What's wrong?"

"I'm sick!" Stella proclaimed.

"Sick! You can't be sick! JONAS is going to the Tween Choice Awards tonight!"

"I know!" Stella said and punctuated it by blowing her nose. "I finished their outfits last night, but if I deliver them I'll just make the boys sick. So I need you to do it."

Most superfans would be more than happy to enter the home of their obsession, and Macy was happy to do that whenever she went over with Stella, but to go with_out_ Stella? Macy winced. She could just see herself having a full-fledged fangirl freak-out.

"Macy," Stella said, clearly reading her mind, "I need you to do this. JONAS needs you to do this. And you're getting better! You haven't hyperventilated in months."

"But you've always been there to tell me to take deep breaths, to focus on other things, to let go of Nick's arm before I break it. I need my non-fangirl anchor!"

Stella sighed. "Listen, Mace, don't you remember when you were little and your dad had to hold the bicycle so you could ride it, but eventually he let go and --"

"My Dad never held the bicycle," Macy interrupted. "I stole my big brother's and rode it around the block twice before my Dad found me and yelled at me for wearing a helmet too big for me."

"Okay," Stella said slowly, "but you can at least see where I'm going with this, right? You're the kid on the bicycle and this is me letting go. Now come down here and get these clothes!" Stella hung up then, effectively cutting off any of Macy's arguments.

Macy took a quick shower -- she refused to face JONAS unless she'd showered within the past ten hours, it was a personal rule -- and hurried over to Stella's. The clothes were waiting downstairs with Stella's mother and were zipped up tight in garment bags. Apparently Stella was taking no chances that the boys would get sick since Macy was allowed no further into the house than the living room. Each garment bag had an initial on it, telling which bag went with which boy and Macy was given a note along with her burden. The note, in addition to detailing which shoes the boys should pull from their existing wardrobe to wear, told Macy the second part of her job: take the clothes to the only dry cleaner in town Stella would dare trust with sanitizing the boys' clothes.

The next few hours were spent with Steve the dry cleaner, watching carefully as he cleaned each garment. Thankfully, Steve was a sports fanatic or Macy would have been completely bored and spent the whole time focused on facing the Lucas brothers without Stella by her side.

When she finally reached the firehouse, there was no answer at the door and, fearful of less scrupulous fangirls than herself, she barged right in.

"Hello?" she called, glancing about the empty kitchen. She gently set the bags over the back of a chair. "It's Macy! With your clothes!" she added, angling her head to see up the stairs while she stepped further into the house. Kevin's face appeared just as the floor slipped under Macy and she found herself flat on her back, wishing with all her might that Kevin Lucas hadn't just seen that display of extreme klutziness. But of course, he had.

"Oh no! Macy!"

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Macy was suddenly four years old, hoping that if she kept her eyes shut and didn't see Kevin, he wouldn't see her.

"I'm so sorry!" Kevin said. "Please tell me you're all right! Don't be hurt!"

That made Macy's eyes snap open and she looked up to see Kevin standing over her, wearing pajamas covered in dancing monkeys.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice small with fear.

"Yeah," Macy said, picking herself off the cold tile. "Just my usual klutziness."

"What?" Kevin asked, helping her up. "No, that was my fault." When she was steady on her feet again he knelt down and picked up a banana peel. "Frankie and I were playing monkeys this morning. We must have missed this one when we cleaned up." He tossed the peel in the trash and took her elbow gently, as if afraid she'd break. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I can handle a little fall," she said, willing herself to stop blushing.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Oh! And have you seen Stella? Dad's been calling her all day wondering where our outfits for tonight are! If she doesn't come soon we'll have to wear something we've already worn, and Stella _hates_ that."

"I've got your clothes!" Macy said and bounded over to the table, grabbing up the bags. "Stella's sick, so she had me deliver them."

"Thank goodness," Kevin sighed. "Dad!" he yelled up the stairs, "Macy brought our clothes!"

Mr. Lucas appeared at the top of the stairs, clearly run-ragged and clearly relieved. "Finally. Get them up here so we can get you boys ready!"

Kevin started up the steps. "Come on," he said over his shoulder. "You can be our Stella for the day and make sure we look okay."

Macy hurried after him, wondering when exactly the boys had become comfortable enough with her that she could be their replacement Stella and enjoying their trust so immensely that she had to remind herself to stop smiling or she might scare them.

* * *

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	4. Challenge 5

AN: So, I couldn't think of anything to do for the sayings challenge. (I know! I've failed! *wails*) But to make up for it I'm posting two responses to the holiday challenge. (Yeah, like the people who read Holiday Chaos didn't see this coming.) Anyway, enjoy.

_Trimming the Christmas Tree_

Macy gently picked up a paper angel, watching closely to make sure that the sparkles that had been so carefully glued on didn't fall off during its journey across the room. A red pipe cleaner had been stapled to the back and she used it to hang the angel on the plastic tree. That done, she stepped back and considered the tree, trying to find open spaces for the remaining ornaments. The lights from the tree shone on her, casting her face in patches of red and blue and gold. The only other light in the room came from the brightly shining hallway outside, where paperwork was being diligently done and nurses walked quietly from room to room.

She'd just decided on a candy cane decoration for one of the lower boughs when a shadow fell across the floor. She frowned.

"I'll be done in a few minutes, I promise," she said.

"Wow."

The soft exclamation had her whirling to face the visitor so fast that she almost lost her footing and fell into the low table the decorations sat on. She steadied herself, silently praying that the dim lights would hide her blush, before saying, "Kevin, what are you doing here?"

He lifted the large box in his arms in a kind of shrug. "I was taking toy donations to your mom's store, but it was already closed. Stella said you would probably still be here and I thought …"

"Oh!" she said when her brain finally caught up. Her mother always asked for special donations this time of year, to give to the kids in the hospital. Kevin must have seen the flyers she'd put up around school.

"You can set them over there," she said, motioning to the couch on the far wall.

"What about the rest?" Kevin asked, doing as she said.

"Rest?" Macy echoed.

"Yeah, I've got at least three more boxes in my car downstairs."

Macy's eyes widened so far she wasn't sure what was holding them in her head anymore. She walked dumbly across the room to look in the box. It looked like he'd taken one of everything from the toy section at Wal-Mart.

"Kevin," Macy breathed, "this is _amazing_. Thank you."

He shrugged self-consciously and ducked his head, muttering something about the kids deserving it.

"Well," she said, looking around at the work she still needed to do, "if you want I can give you my keys and you can load the other boxes into my car."

His head snapped up. "I can wait," he insisted. "What else do you have to do here?"

She sighed and crossed the room, picking up the candy cane she'd chosen before. "The kids made these today, I really want them to be on the tree when they wake up tomorrow."

"Okay," Kevin said.

She felt him come up behind her and turned to see him considering the tree just the way she had earlier. He turned back to the table and reached for a bell colored like a rainbow, only to frown and instead choose an ornament resembling an armadillo.

"That one's my favorite," Macy said as he put it beside a Santa Claus.

"Mine too," Kevin said, smiling. "I love armadillos."

Macy couldn't help but return his grin. "They're so cute!"

"I know! Did you know that some species always give birth to four identical babies?"

"Aw!" Macy cooed.

"Joe and Nick think it's gross, but I think it's awesome. Though, Stella sometimes uses my love of armadillos against me."

"She tells you there's an armadillo behind you to distract you?" Macy asked in sympathy.

"Yup."

Macy nodded and turned back to the table. After they'd each put up several more ornaments a thought occurred to her.

"Hey!" she said and Kevin almost dropped his ornament. "How did you get into the hospital? Visiting hours ended hours ago. And what were you even doing bringing the toys so late, anyway?"

"Oh, well, I got in because the nurse at the front desk really likes JONAS."

Macy rolled her eyes, even as she made a mental note to find whichever nurse it was and give her the address for her fansite.

He busied himself adjusting one of the tree's branches while he said, "And I had to come late because I was worried one of the crazed fangirls outside the firehouse would jump on the back of my car, break the window, and steal the toys."

"Well," she said, "that was probably a good idea then. Even some of my JONAS-heads can get a bit overzealous. Though, I doubt they'd break your window."

"That's what Nick said. But he also thinks otters with trumpets are stupid."

Macy shook her head as she placed the last ornament on the tree. "Even world-renowned teen sensations can have bad taste. Such a pity."

Kevin nodded.

* * *

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	5. Challenge 6

AN: I know a lot of people are probably mad that Three Things isn't being updated, but I promise that's coming soon. I just really wanted to work on this again even though the final prompt was posted forever ago. Also, Stella's ringtone is from "That's Just The Way We Roll." Thanks for angellwings for suggesting it.

_Lyrics_

_"So hold on another day cause love is on its way. You'll find it's gonna be okay cause love is on its way" - Love is on its Way_

It started as it always did, with a late night text to Stella. The only difference was that this time Stella was away on tour with the guys. When it came she was busy sighing over Kevin's ruined pants -- the power slides again.

"Why do you do this to me, Kevin?" she asked, holding up the pants for him to see. Joe and Nick quickly excused themselves, retreating to a safe distance.

Kevin's eyes went wide and if she hadn't been dealing with the Lucas boys for so many years the look on his face would have made her feel guilty.

He swallowed and said, "Why don't you make the knees of my pants stronger? You know I'm just gonna keep doing it."

Stella opened her mouth to say that she shouldn't have to make the knees stronger, but then realized he had actually had a really good idea. She could reinforce them on the inside so that the fans would never notice and -- She shook herself. She was still angry with Kevin and telling him he'd made a good point would only undermine that. Before she could think of something sufficiently scathing to say, her phone rang. _We are wild, we are free, we are more than you think._

"Is that Macy?" Kevin asked brightly, recognizing the ringtone.

"Yeah," Stella said, her anger fading entirely as she pulled the phone from her pocket. "She had a date tonight and I made her promise she'd call after --" Stella was so busy reading Macy's text that she didn't notice Kevin's expression fall. "Oh boy," Stella muttered and frantically began texting Macy back. There would be no response. There never was in these situations, but Macy needed to know she had a friend. Stella hurriedly grabbed her purse and sewing bag from a nearby chair, shoving the pants into the latter. It was this practically-disgraceful treatment of clothing that alerted Kevin to her current crisis.

"What did Macy say?" he asked, standing.

Stella stopped, glancing at him. Kevin wasn't usually the serious one, but when he was it was best to listen to him.

"I can't tell you," she said truthfully, then sighed, sinking down into the nearest chair. "And it doesn't matter because I can't get home to help her. My best friend needs me and I'm a thousand miles away."

"Macy needs you? Is it serious? Did she get hurt?"

The way Kevin's voice caught made Stella smile, though it was a bit sad. "Macy will be fine, it'll just be easier for her if she has her best friend."

Kevin cocked his head to the side and Stella knew she'd only confused him more.

"Her idiot boyfriend broke up with her, didn't he?"

Okay, maybe she hadn't confused him more.

"Yeah, he did."

"And Macy needs you?"

"Whenever Macy gets really and truly bummed -- like that time she missed the shot at the buzzer and lost the game -- she texts me and then disappears. I eventually find her practicing some sport and we talk and make everything better. But now I'm here with you guys. Macy's on her own."

"But Macy needs you?" Kevin pressed.

"Not exactly _needs_ but --" She blinked, Kevin was marching out the door.

Completely confused, Stella decided that her best course of action was to do whatever mending she could. The work would take her mind off of Macy and provide her with a reasonable limit to how many times she could text her -- only one text each piece of mending.

Twenty minutes later Kevin was back with his father in tow.

"No," Tom Lucas was saying, "now! We're on our way right now."

Kevin grabbed Stella's purse from where she'd dropped it and pulled her out the door by her elbow while Tom continued giving instructions to someone.

"What's going on?" Stella asked.

"We're getting you to Macy."

They were at the small, private airport within the hour. Kevin and Tom pushed her onto the JONAS jet, telling her to catch up to the tour when she had the chance and to take good care of Macy.

When Stella finally made it home early the next morning she went straight to the park and found Macy shooting perfect free throw after perfect free throw. She knew that Macy would wonder how she'd gotten there so quickly and when she did, Stella would have to be careful to tell only the bare facts, none of the embellishments that it was still too soon after the breakup for Macy to hear. Somehow she would have to comfort her best friend without ever letting it slip that a thousand miles away there was a boy who loved her enough to ship her best friend to her overnight.

* * *

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	6. Challenge 6 again

AN: Because I skipped one of the challenges (I just couldn't think of anything for it!) I'm doing two lyrics responses. And boy, did this one end up longer than I thought it would. It just sort of ran away from me, but I hope you all enjoy.

_Lyrics_

"_Video girl rocked my world for a whole two seconds." - Video Girl_

Lunch at Churchill High was rarely fun these days. It used to be fine: Paolo would sit down at his usual table with his usual friends, talk about Mr. Whitman's comb over, mock the popular kids across the cafeteria, and casually give Bertha his pudding cup. He'd worked out a regular rotation of methods for giving her the cup -- ways ranging from lack of appetite to a sudden craving for her shredded liver sandwich -- so she wouldn't get suspicious about his reasons. But lately things had started changing.

Ever since that fateful day when Amber Prescott had called Bertha a cow, Bertha had been more and more withdrawn. She didn't laugh at their jokes about Mr. Whitman and she didn't join in mocking the cool kids. In fact, if Paolo didn't know any better, he'd say she looked almost annoyed when they mocked.

Without Bertha's smiling face and crazy jokes lunch had quickly become just another boring hour at school. Even his pudding cup hadn't seemed to help her mood in days and Paolo was seriously beginning to worry.

"Bertha?" Paolo asked cautiously, spinning the cup in his hands.

"Yeah?" she asked dully, spearing a macaroni twirl in her Tupperware container of tuna noodle surprise (the surprise was pepper jack cheese).

"I'm full, you want my pudding?"

She looked up from her meal, just far enough to see the cup he held before him and he was sad that she didn't lift her eyes to his before returning to her pasta.

"No," she sighed.

The cup slid from Paolo's hand. Bertha _never_ refused his pudding cup. He'd been giving it to her for 58 straight lunches and she had never said no. This was bad. In that moment Paolo resolved to do whatever it took to help Bertha get her smile back.

* * *

That promise was still weighing on Paolo's mind two Saturdays later when his phone rang at five in the morning.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Paolo?"

"Bertha!" he said, immediately awake. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I just need a favor."

"Anything," he said, hoping she'd called with the answer to both their troubles, "anything for you. What do you need?"

"A ride. I was going to borrow my brother's car but the battery's dead and my parents need theirs today."

"Of course," he said, holding the phone with his shoulder as he tugged on his jeans and sneakers. "I'm always glad to give you a lift. Where are we headed?"

"LA."

The phone fell as Paolo's shoulders sagged in shock and he grabbed for it comically in the dark room.

"LA?" he echoed. "Why?"

"There's a -- a job interview. It's at ten. Can you get me there by then?"

Paolo glanced at the clock. LA was hours away but … if traffic was on their side and he broke a few speed limits, they should be able to make it. And Bertha sounded so eager, he couldn't let her down. "Sure. We can make it," he said. "I'll stop by the gas station on the way to your house. Since you know where we're headed can you get directions off of Google for me?"

"Of course! Thank you so much, Paolo! I'll be ready!"

He grabbed a few twenties from his emergency money stash under his comic books, wrote a note telling his parents where he was going for the day and why, and, as an afterthought, took his camera, figuring he might as well get some shots around LA for his photography class while he was there. A Taco Bell sat kitty-corner to the gas station and he pulled in there, ordering a few breakfast burritos for the two of them to eat on the way.

He stopped in front of Bertha's house exactly twenty-two minutes after hanging up the phone. Her brother, Humphrey, was in the driveway, working on the broken down car, and the two shared a wave. Humphrey was two years older than Bertha and Paolo and, though he sat at the cool table, never made fun of them. His protective nature had cost Amber Prescott any chance of dating a senior boy after she dared insult Bertha.

"Bertha!" Humphrey called into the modest house. "Your boyfriend's here!"

Paolo scowled at him but took the opportunity to tune the radio to Bertha's favorite station. When the passenger door opened he blindly handed her the Taco Bell bag. "I thought you might be hungry."

"No thanks," she said, setting the bag on the dashboard.

Paolo didn't know what to be more shocked by, Bertha turning down her favorite breakfast or the pair of long, shapely legs currently taking up residence in his passenger seat. The feet, complete with tiny flowers on the nails, wore fashionable heels and when he followed the legs up -- way too far up -- he found a painfully short skirt and tight top. Her curls were gone, replaced by perfectly sculpted hair.

"Hi," she said, prompting him to do something other than stare.

"What?" was all he could manage to say.

"I wanted to look good for today. Don't you think I do?"

"_Yeah_," he said. "But … you didn't have to change. You could have looked just as good and still --"

"Still what?" she asked and he knew he was treading on thin ice.

"Still looked like you."

"I'm still me! I just wanted to try something new." She handed him the directions, fresh from the printer, and he took them with a smile.

"Okay," he said, "let's go have us an adventure."

She smiled and his objections to the change melted away.

* * *

For the several hours they were on the road it felt like he had the old Bertha back. They laughed at crazy radio hosts, pointed out silly license plates, and played dorky car games like who could find all the letters of the alphabet first.

The directions she had gotten were perfect and they made it to their destination with time to spare. He had to rush to keep up with her but he needn't have bothered. A long line of women and girls dressed much like Bertha, wrapped around the side of the building.

The sun bore down, reflecting off the pale yellow wall Bertha stood against. Feeling out of place just standing around, Paolo decided the light was perfect for a few pictures. He'd intended to focus on the architecture of the buildings that towered around them but once the other girls saw a camera most of them were eager to be photographed. They posed in practiced positions, each showing themselves off to their best advantage. Every time one of them asked for his card and he could only give her his number he felt a bit more self-conscious, though the girls all seemed to take his number with a bigger smile than they'd had before. These smiles seemed knowing in a way that made him uncomfortable and he wondered what Bertha was getting herself involved in.

By the time he managed to extract himself from the girls Bertha was nearly to the front of the line. When she saw him she grabbed his arm above the elbow, her nails digging in through his long sleeves.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Just taking a few pictures."

"Of all those girls?"

"Yeah, they asked me to."

Bertha rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you. All they want is some schmuck who'll take their photo for free. They're flirting with you because they think they'll get something out of it."

The girl behind Bertha muttered something Paolo couldn't make out but Bertha shot her a dangerous glare. Someone made a "rawr" sound and said something about backing off, he's taken. Paolo's eyes widened. He was taken?

Just then Bertha reached the front of the line and pulled Paolo inside the building with her.

"Name?" a clearly bored woman behind a folding table asked, her gum snapping. They stood in a tiny hallway, the air conditioner fighting the sun at their backs. The door at the end of the hall opened and the sounds of many conversations drifted towards them from the dark room.

"Fiona Skye," Bertha said and Paolo did a double take. Bertha ignored him, handing the woman some papers pulled from her purse.

The woman flipped through them quickly, marking a few things down as she went. The last page in the pile was a headshot of Bertha, the new Bertha. The woman looked up and eyed Bertha then motioned for her to turn around. She nodded. "Okay. You're in group A." She handed her a nametag with A27 written on it and Bertha quickly stuck it on. "Who are you?"

It took Paolo a moment to realize that the woman was talking to him.

"Um …"

"He's my friend," Bertha said.

"Well, no friends are allowed on the shoot. We've got enough girls trying out as it is." The woman's dismissive glance stopped on the camera hanging from his neck. "You're a photographer?"

"Kind of."

"You can take a decent picture? No fingers over the lens, no screwing up the lighting?"

"Yeah."

"Good, we're short a photographer." The woman grabbed a cord hanging from the back of her chair and tossed it to him. It was a pass giving him access to the shoot. "You're hired. The director needs shots of all the girls to see who'll look best on the set and the record company wants some promotional shots. Think you can handle that?"

"Um …"

"Just do whatever anyone tells you, you'll be fine. Head down the hall with your friend and then just look for the other photographers. They'll take care of you."

Bertha grabbed Paolo's arm excitedly as they hurried down the hall. "This is incredible! Aren't you just so excited?"

"Yeah, I guess. What was up with your name back there?"

"Oh, that. That's my stage name. It's no big deal," she added, seeing his worried expression.

"Since when do you need a stage name?"

"Since today," she said confidently.

* * *

Paolo snapped exactly three pictures of every girl in group C. They came onto his section of the set -- the section in the back where faux mountains had been crafted before a mural of a setting desert sun -- struck a pose and he took three pictures. He spent the time it took the next girl to climb up deleting two of the photos, leaving only one for the director to look at. This was an open call for a music video and handling everyone who had shown up would be a tough job. Every so often loud music would filter through the wall to his far right. The other photographers had told him that the musician -- some guy with a name Paolo had instantly forgotten -- was filming most of the video over there while they picked the girls here. He'd made the mistake of asking if the girls needed to know how to dance -- he didn't think Bertha knew how -- and had been met with laughter so hard that one of the photographers actually teared up.

Group C was one of the biggest and by the time the pictures were finished one of the other photographers had come over to split Paolo's workload.

"How did you end up here?" the man asked as they hurried to join the other photographers clustered around the director.

"My friend needed a ride."

"One of the girls?"

"Yeah." The man gave him a strange look and Paolo asked, "What?"

"I'm just wondering if you're a lovesick fool or gay."

Paolo's wide eyes must have been enough of an answer because the man slapped him on the back. "Don't worry. You take a nice picture of a girl out here, she's putty in your hands."

The director was frowning at the camera in his hands and Paolo wondered if it was Bertha's picture he was annoyed with.

"How many came again?" the director asked.

A woman in a smart suit standing nearby said, "Two hundred and forty-one."

The director moaned and handed the camera over his shoulder. "I'm not going past thirty-four on this one. Give the last B spot to her."

The woman marked it down as the director motioned for Paolo to hand over his camera.

"Seventeen, forty-two, and sixty," Paolo said.

"What?" the director asked, frowning.

"Oh!" Paolo added, looking to the photographer who'd helped him. "And fifty-three, I think it was, from the ones you did? The one after the girl with the blue streak in her hair?"

The photographer blinked at him and the director repeated, "What?"

"Those are the four best girls from group C. I figured it'd save you some time," Paolo said, shrugging and slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Find fifty-three," the director said absently as he looked through Paolo's camera.

"Here," the photographer said. The director looked between the two cameras.

"Seventeen and fifty-three look great, I'll trust him about the other two. You've got a good eye kid."

"Thanks," Paolo said sheepishly, taking back the camera.

"Now that that's decided," the director said, all business, "let's finish this up and go home."

* * *

Paolo watched from the sidelines as the set was put together and the girls were told what to do. Bertha had been chosen and the excitement on her face was almost worth everything. When the musician came in Paolo went to work, staying out of the way as best he could while taking pictures of everything from the rehearsal to people lounging around on set.

When the music started playing he stepped back, watching Bertha dance beside a motorcycle while the musician spouted obscene lyrics. She actually could dance and his mouth went dry while she moved with the beat, lifting her arms above her head and smiling seductively at the camera. When the musician came over to her she rubbed up against him and something went hard in Paolo's chest.

The shoot wrapped up and Paolo was given cards for several companies who were more than happy to offer him a job after seeing the work he'd done today. Fiona found him in the parking lot, giddy with the success of the day. Apparently she'd been offered more work as well.

As they drove home the ride was filled with talk of Hollywood and dreams of fame. Listening, Paolo couldn't help but think that Fiona Skye wasn't the type of girl to let a boy give her a pudding cup at lunch.

* * *

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	7. Challenge 7

AN: You can all thank angellwings for this chapter. She had a JONAS marathon today and hearing about it made me want to write something.

AN2: I couldn't pick one prompt for this theme so I used them all. I hope that you enjoy and that suburbs doesn't cast me into a pit of fandom shame for cheating slightly. Also, I have three alternate scenes that I'm posting on my LJ (and maybe here later) if anyone's interested.

AN3: In "Keeping It Real" Stella mentions having a brother. I've decided his name is David. You can say he's any age you want, it really doesn't matter.

**Sun**

The Lucases and the Malones are heading to the beach. The tour starts in a week and everyone's eager for some quality time before their lives change. The dads have fun racing on the freeway while the moms freak out. Nick hunches next to the window, reading, while Frankie and Kevin make faces at David. Joe and Stella text on the phones they're not supposed to be bringing.

They're not supposed to be talking about the tour either but Stella wants to know if he thinks his navy blue outfit needs cuff links. He says yes, knowing it looks better without and smiles when she overrules him, calling him silly. He tells her they shouldn't be worrying about that now. The tour is a world away and this weekend is supposed to be a break. She asks if he brought everything for the weekend. Before he can send back a snarky reply Stella's dad grabs her phone and waves it at Joe's dad, who takes his.

The rest of the trip is boring and Joe falls asleep. The parents drop the kids off at the beach for fun while they head to the beach house. Joe runs out onto the sand with a whoop of joy, then veers right and stops under a little old lady's beach umbrella.

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" he says, lifting his bare feet up and down to relieve the pain of the scorching sand.

Stella walks slowly over to him. "This," she says, "is why I'm still obsessing over the tour." She drops a pair of flip-flops at his feet and follows David and Frankie down to the surf.

**Wind**

Their first day in California they see a news report on a tree being blown over and crushing a car. The Santa Anas are annoying and dry and aggravate everyone's allergies. Stella has to get their dad to increase her budget because Kevin keeps leaving his designer sunglasses all over LA and if he doesn't wear them dust and pollen blow in his eyes and they get all red and puffy and that's no way to meet the head of the record label. Stella's so busy with them she doesn't think about herself until she catches her reflection in a window. Her hair's been blown every which way and has become a mess even the bride of Frankenstein couldn't handle. Joe drapes a floral scarf over her head and ties it around her hair before she can freak out.

"You look beautiful," he whispers and they're whisked to the next meeting before she can think to thank him.

**Rain**

Sometime between running back upstairs to get his forgotten guitar and reaching the front doors of the hotel it started pouring. The doorman is busy helping a spoiled heiress and her three identical dogs into a cab. Joe looks between the waterfall coming off the edge of the hotel and the limo and can't for the life of him figure out a way across the expanse that won't ruin his outfit.

The limo door opens and he sees Stella pulling something out of her purse. The next second a pink and yellow umbrella pops open and Stella steps out beneath it.

"Never," she says, approaching him, "go anywhere without an umbrella."

**Cloudy**

Stella moving around their hotel room wakes them up their first morning in Spain. Kevin mutters something about butterflies and Nick comes awake saying what's probably the start of a new song. Joe blinks, rubbing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

Stella doesn't stop shifting through the clothes. "There's a storm in Portugal."

Nick pushes himself up. "And that has what to do with you waking us up before we're acclimated to this time zone?"

Joe rolls over and says the answer into his pillow. "It's gonna be cloudy tomorrow -- today -- whatever. Our outfits don't work as well if it's not sunny."

Nick moans in protest and Kevin yells out "Waffles!" before it goes quiet and they're left with only the sound of cloth fluttering in the near darkness.

**Snow**

It's snowing in Switzerland and the boys sneak out while their dad takes a nap -- he's still not used to the time change -- and have a chaotic snowball fight where everyone are friends and everyone are enemies.

Stella finds them when they've collapsed and gets them to make snow angels before dragging Joe off to make a snow man. When he starts to take off his scarf she stops him and pulls one out of her deep jacket pocket, along with a knit cap and mittens. All match perfectly and, as far as Stella knows, they leave them behind in Switzerland. Joe goes back for them that night and takes them out for every snowman they make after that.

**Hail**

Joe never does remember an umbrella, whether it's because he's too lazy to or because he just likes the excuse to stand close to Stella, he won't admit. But when they're walking the streets in Paris and a piece of hail shreds through the bright fabric of her umbrella he's quick to pull her into a doorway. They wait for it to pass, hail bouncing off the cobblestones and hitting their booted ankles.

"Good thing your outfit choices for today included boots," he quips, hugging her and pretending he's doing it to keep her warm.

She smiles up and him and shakes her head before resting against his chest and he could almost swear she planned the boots knowing it was going to hail.

**Foggy**

Joe can only sit, unmoving for several seconds afterward. He'd thought a drive would be a good way to break the day after day of touring, but the fog was thicker than he'd thought when he first begged the rental car keys from his dad, who will be killing him when he finds out he crashed into a tree in Italy.

He turns to Stella, touching her arm, her face, her stomach, making sure she's alive. She pushes his hands away and sighs.

"What? Are you hurt?" he asks quickly.

She rolls her head to the side, looking him over head to toe. "That outfit is so not going to look good plastered on the tabloids tomorrow."

He sighs, glad not even a harrowing car crash can stop Stella from being Stella.

**Cold**

Their interview goes longer than anyone had thought and it's freezing when they head outside. Kevin complains and Nick berates him, saying it was his fault they were so late. Which, truthfully, it was. The interviewer asked what sites they planned on taking in and Kevin waxed poetic on the zoo for a full hour.

Joe picks up his steps to reach Stella and pulls his jacket off while he does. He puts it around her shoulders.

"It's a good thing we match today," he says with a smile, "otherwise you'd clash."

She rolls her eyes. "As if I'd wear it if it did." But she steps closer to him all the same.

**Thunder and Lightning**

A roar of thunder wakes Joe at two in the morning and he's frightened. He's in a hotel, half a world away from home, and as childish as it is he wants to be comforted. Nick's asleep on the couch across the suite and Kevin's clutching Mr. Bumble in the next bed. Neither would welcome being woken for this.

The next roar makes his decision for him and he climbs out of bed. The hotel is eerily quiet this late and he shuffles down the hall, trying to remember the number of his parents' room. He has three electronic keys, one for each room their party is renting, and gets in on the first try. He slides the door open just as the thunder claps and when the lightning flashes he sees Stella silhouetted against the windows. She's wearing a robe, her own, not the hotel's, over her PJs and some of the tension leaves her shoulders when she sees him.

"I was scared," she says quietly.

"Me too," he admits.

**Hot**

After their morning interviews Stella meets them in the limo, three new outfits in hand. There's a heat wave and they're dangerously close to having pit stains. She moves up front to sit with the driver at the first stoplight, coming back three lights later to give her approval.

The lunch with the director they're desperate to get for their next album is on the patio and Joe can practically hear Stella grinding her teeth. She makes them all drink three ice waters just with the power of her annoyed glare and the minute the meeting's done they have to rush back to the hotel, both for new outfits and for a much needed bathroom break.

Stella creates new outfits lightning quick before returning to her own room to change. Kevin whines and Joe shoots him an angry glance. Stella's job is hard enough in this weather without them complaining. Though, he really doesn't want to change again either.

"I'll meet you when the signing's over," she says before they leave and they all know what she means. She needs time to think up new outfits.

About five bazillion signatures later they pile into the limo and sigh when they see the garment bags. Stella's already in the front seat and Joe opens his first, wanting to get it over with. Bright, Hawaiian print is the first thing he sees and it takes him a minute to recognize his swim trunks and towel. Stella's voice crackles over the intercom. "Your dinner got cancelled and your mom thought you could use a break." Flip-flops tumbled out of the bottom of the bag. "Don't forget to wear the shoes."

* * *

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	8. Challenge 8

AN: I realized I'd never really written Nick before and decided to take this opportunity to try. I hope you all enjoy.

spoilers for "Complete Repeat"

Lyrics (Sara Bareilles)

"There's nothing here to hold on to. Could I hold on to you?" – City

For the psychology paper due that Monday, the university library was really the only option. The Horace Mantis library was overcrowded with students studying for finals but the university was practically a ghost town since their finals were a week earlier. Unfortunately, the university library was four stories high, which made the elevator a necessity after a long day, sixth period PE, and a run for the bus.

Amy sagged against the side of the elevator, letting her heavy backpack slide from her shoulder to the floor and leaning into the wall when she hit the button for the third floor. The doors slid closed slowly, only to pop open just before sealing her in. The familiar boy who came in turned to hit the buttons on the other side of the door and so didn't see her at first. He was heading to the fourth floor and she thanked her lucky stars.

Amy silently counted down the seconds until the doors closed, debating the wisdom of running. In the end, she was too tired and just waited, knowing the ride would only last a few seconds and she'd be free soon enough.

She was pointedly looking at nothing when he turned around.

"Amy?" Nick asked.

She blinked, pretending she hadn't noticed him until now. "Oh, Nick, hi!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets as the number two flashed above them. He was clearly just as uncomfortable as she was. She decided the seven seconds it would take for her to get out were too long to live with this much tension.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this, huh?" she asked, a light laugh in her tone.

The corners of his lips curved upward slightly and he glanced at her. "Yeah," he said.

She looked up at the number over the door again and frowned. It should have changed by now. And just like that, the elevator lurched to a sickening stop.

* * *

Nick's eyes widened and, if he'd had the ability to focus at that moment he would have seen Amy's expression exactly mirrored his. This was not happening. This _could not_ be happening.

First of all, he had an English final to study for. He needed the precious hours of peace he was guaranteed at the university library. He couldn't study at home. _Kevin and Joe _were at home. And Joe had mentioned something about a study session with Stella. There was no way anyone could study in the mess that would result.

And then there was the second part of the problem: he was an internationally known rock star. Trapped in an elevator. With a girl. The horrifying tabloid headlines flashed before his eyes.

A slight crackling filled the air and he realized Amy had hit the emergency call button.

"Hello?" Amy said.

"Hello?" came the rough reply.

"Hi, we're trapped in an elevator. It looks like it's stuck between the second and third floors."

"How many of you are there?"

"Just two," Nick said over Amy's shoulder.

"Okay, you kids sit tight, we'll get you out as soon as we can."

The crackling stopped abruptly. Amy turned slowly to face him and he didn't miss the trepidation on her face. "It shouldn't take too long," she said.

He nodded, because that was clearly what she wanted him to do. But really, he was remembering the story of a man who was once trapped in an elevator for more than a day.

She slid down the wall and rested her head against her knees. She seemed settled enough, so he pulled out his cell phone. He had one tiny little bar and he hoped it would be enough to call out, tell his family what was going on just in case this took a while. He tried twice, the call cutting off within seconds each time, before Amy said, "Text."

"What?" he asked.

"The signal's not strong enough in the library to carry anything bigger than a text."

"Oh." When he'd come here before he'd always wondered why a building full of young people was so devoid of cell phone conversations.

He sent a quick text to Stella, knowing she'd see it first.

_Stuck in elevator - uni library. _

Mere seconds later Stella responded.

_WHAT?!!! R U OK?_

He rolled his eyes, thinking, "Of course not, Stella. Because if I was injured and trapped in an elevator, I'd totally text you first." Instead he texted her back.

_I'm fine. Just stuck._

_Kevin wants 2 know if u r alone._

Nick chuckled, imagining what his brother had really said. Probably something about him being trapped with a sumo wrestler or something.

_No. Amy's here._

_Amy?! Elevator girl?_

Nick frowned. As far as he knew, Stella didn't know about Amy dumping the shake on his head. He'd cleaned the shirt he was wearing himself, not wanting to get Stella angry at the girl.

_Joe? Did you steal Stella's phone?_

_Maybe…_

Nick rolled his eyes and sat down in the corner, tossing the phone into his bag and pretending he didn't hear it when it rang again. He glanced at Amy and found her staring at him across the small space. She turned away quickly and he didn't miss the slight blush on her cheeks.

"Did you tell your family what's happening?" he asked, hoping to break the ice.

She nodded, focusing on the wall directly across from her instead of him. "My parents almost never check their phones though, so hopefully we'll be out before they start freaking."

"I wish I had that problem," he muttered, letting his head fall back against the wall.

"Why?" she asked and he noted that she was finally looking at him.

"I called Stella, our stylist --"

"The girl your brother just needs to date already?"

"Yeah, that's her. Anyway, she told my brothers who are now freaking enough for both of our families combined. I'm really not sure whether I hope they've told Mom and Dad yet or not."

"Why? Shouldn't your parents know? They could probably calm your brothers down."

"Oh no. Mom would try, but Dad would freak even more than the guys and then they'd just feed off each other -- I prefer option number two."

"Which is?"

"That they're on their way here with some ill-conceived plan to get us out on their own."

Amy's reaction was exactly what he'd expected. She stared, then the skin around her eyes crinkled as she grinned. "You're joking," she said.

"No," he said, completely serious, "I'm really not."

"Oh boy," she muttered.

"Yeah." Nick glanced at his watch. "I give it an hour before we hear them arguing with a librarian."

She laughed again. It was a nice laugh, not too loud, not obnoxious. He frowned. If he hadn't followed Kevin's stupid plan -- really, what had possessed him to go along with a plan that came from Kevin in the first place? -- he could be dating Amy right now.

Amy looked away quickly and he realized he'd been frowning at her. He hit his head against the wall. She probably thought he was annoyed with her. He watched her dig her binder out of her backpack and flip it open.

"Psych paper," she said, pulling out her headphones next.

"Fleedman?" he asked.

"Yep. I was gonna work on it tonight, but --" She shrugged and seemed to encompass the whole space of the elevator in the movement.

"Hey," he said, stopping her just before she could turn on her mp3 player. "You don't happen to have an English book in there?" He'd left his at school, knowing he could find all the texts he'd need in the library and not wanting the extra weight.

"Welling's class?"

"Yeah."

She slid the heavy tome across the tiled floor. "You want my notes too?"

"Sure," he said, surprised she'd offered.

She turned to the back of the binder and unclipped a folder. He took it and quickly set to studying.

* * *

Amy had never been more thankful for her mp3 player. It let her get lost in the music while she wrote out her paper long-hand -- she could find studies to prove her points later and add the quotes when she typed everything up -- and distracted her from the annoyingly cute boy sitting a few feet away.

Why did she have to get stuck in an elevator with Nick Lucas of all people? And, more importantly, why did her entire relationship with him seem to happen in small, vertically moving spaces?

After she'd dumped the shake on his head she'd walked away, head high, intent on never troubling herself with any of the Lucas boys ever again. But she still had classes with Nick and she still saw all three of them around school, so she wasn't so much never troubling herself as she was catching herself thinking about Nick way too often.

Maybe she should have given him a third chance. It wasn't like she'd never done anything stupid. Just last week she'd gotten the creamed corn from the cafeteria, just because she always got a vegetable and her tray felt unbalanced without the usual baby carrots. She'd paid for that mistake all night -- and she wasn't even sure it was really creamed corn she'd eaten.

Okay, maybe the music wasn't really helping anymore. But she'd gotten a good chunk of her paper written before thoughts of Nick started distracting her. She glanced at the small mp3 player, deciding a faster song might help, and realized its battery was almost dead. It had been full this morning. How long had they --

"Right on schedule," Nick muttered.

Sure enough, yelling could be heard beneath them.

"Your brothers are so weird," she said.

Nick's head shot up and she blushed. Idiot! He had the whole world watching his family, he probably didn't like anyone making fun of them.

"You don't think I'm weird?" he asked.

"Oh," Amy said, suddenly shy, "I guess I kind of do. But not as weird as they are. I mean, I once saw your oldest brother getting trampled by a family of ducks in the petting zoo. And the other one once walked into the girls locker room to ask Stella if she was really going out with Van Dyke that weekend."

"He did _what_?"

Amy giggled. She'd never seen Nick look so shocked, his expressions tended to range from placid to okay.

"He had his eyes covered and Stella got him out before any teachers saw him, but still."

"Wow. I wish I could say I'm really surprised by that, but those do sound like my brothers -- though, I would have thought Joe had more sense than to walk into the girls locker room. But still, I turned you down for a date, made you ask me again, and then turned you down all over again. That's not exactly normal."

"But _you're_ not normal."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean," she said, not caring how stern her tone was. "You're an internationally known rock star. Your life is bound to be a little different, no matter how hard you may try to be normal."

"We do try," he muttered.

"I can tell. Everyone can."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Kids from other schools either think it's 'totally awesome' to go to school with you, or they think you must be pompous jerks who make the rest of our lives unbearable. But it's not either. Most students at Horace Mantis can tell how much you work to keep your rock star lives separate from your school lives -- and that means a lot."

"I had no idea."

She smiled, turning back to her paper. If she hadn't known better, she'd think she just saw Nick Lucas blush.

"Amy?" he asked seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for telling me."

* * *

Nick glanced at his watch and bit back a moan. They'd been in here for hours! By now the sun had set and he had no doubt that someone, somewhere, had informed the media that a member of JONAS was trapped in an elevator. Plus, he'd probably bomb his final. After she told him how normal he was Nick hadn't been able to keep his focus -- at least not on English. He'd always tried so hard to be normal and always failed so miserably. Or so he'd assumed. Maybe all his efforts hadn't been in vain.

He wondered if that was what had given Amy the courage to ask him out. She'd mentioned worrying about him being too big and famous, maybe seeing how hard they all tried not to be that way was why she'd put herself out there. And he'd been an idiot and blown it. Twice. Maybe, if he was lucky, she'd give him one more chance.

"We're gonna be stuck in here all night, aren't we?" she asked and he noticed that her hand was resting idly on her stomach. She was probably just as hungry as he was.

He grabbed his bag and began digging around. "I've got a bag of chips and a soda. How about you?"

She looked up, confused, then quickly began going through her own bag. "Um, a candy bar, a PB and J I didn't eat at lunch --" She'd learned her lesson about school lunches after the creamed corn incident -- "and a water."

"Sounds like a feast," Nick said, trying his best to smile encouragingly. He scooted over to her side of the elevator and took her food, laying everything out between them. "You want the soda?"

She shook her head. "They make me jittery." She handed him half her sandwich and toasted him with her half.

They ate quietly for several minutes, only the gentle glug-glug of their respective drinks and the crunch of chips between them.

"I really am sorry," he said. "I don't think I ever said it." She paused, her hand on one of the chips.

"You don't have to--" she began, not looking at him.

"Yes, I do. And I want to. I never should have hurt you just to write a song."

He thought he was going to have to beg for her forgiveness when the elevator lurched. The lights went out and something warm wrapped around his hand. He just realized it was Amy's hand when the elevator lurched again and she jumped closer to him. He instinctively reached around to hold her awkwardly. The lights came back on and the elevator slid slowly downward.

Amy pulled away from him just before the doors opened and the little bit of her face he saw as she turned was bright red. Joe and Kevin rushed in, looking wild-eyed. Joe saw how close the two of them were sitting and nodded appreciatively.

"Don't say it," Nick snapped, pulling himself up. He turned to offer his hand to Amy but she was busy gathering her things off the floor. He looked back to his brothers. "We were studying."

Stella came into the elevator next, pushing Joe further in. "Oh thank goodness!" she said.

Nick thought for a moment that she was coming to hug him but instead she hugged Amy, who was now on her feet.

"I am so sorry you got stuck in an elevator with him," Stella said.

"Hey!" Nick cried.

"I mean, he is better than the other two," Stella continued.

"Hey!" Joe and Kevin chorused.

"But I'd still rather be alone," Stella said as if they hadn't spoken. She laced her arm through Amy's and pulled her out the doors. "I'll give you a ride home," Nick heard her saying while his brothers asked what had happened.

Nick shook his head and began gathering his belongings. Things hadn't gone nearly as well as they could have, but they hadn't gone horribly either. Maybe he had another chance with Amy -- after finals, of course.

"I don't want to hear about it!" Nick snapped, pushing past his brothers, who quickly grabbed him and steered him towards a back exit. "I didn't get nearly as much studying done as I wanted to and you two had better leave me in peace this weekend!"

* * *

_reviews = love_


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